


Silhouette

by fireflyslove



Series: A Chain of Light (Worf/Jadzia DS9) [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Family, Gen, Jadzia Dax Lives, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyslove/pseuds/fireflyslove
Summary: Worf's not really sorry about this one.Or: Hatrel's story(Rules of Acquisition, a Chain of Light Miniseries PART THE FIRST)
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf
Series: A Chain of Light (Worf/Jadzia DS9) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500980
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii.
> 
> So I've been Overtaken by Events aaand I'm back on this bullshit, so here's some general DS9 flailing. Technically Rules of Acquisition fits within A Chain of Light, and is dependent on the previous fics, especially the first one, which I sincerely need to finish to explain what the entire fuck is going on with Ezri. ANYWAY. Here's some baby fic. ROA will have a thin plot running through them, at least the first three (Hatrel, Sazi, and Rejah), and are best read in order. This is an Adventure for all involved, I promise you. 
> 
> Hatrel is agender, and I made the decision to use they/them pronouns from the beginning for them. How they communicate this at age 3 is completely up to you to figure out.
> 
> I've decided I care very little about canon as far as this fic goes and everything that looks wrong as far as distance or timing is simply a handwave away from being fixed. :)
> 
> (Which is harder to spell, Colonel or Qo'noS?)   
> (It's Colonel)

Jadzia rubbed the side of her neck. It itched more than anything else, and Julian swore the feeling was all in her head, but it was still irritating. 

“Same time tomorrow,” he said. “And drink more water!” he called after her as she left the infirmary. 

She had had children before, both ways, and she had to admit that this was by far the least fun way to do it. Oh, to be sure, there would be  _ fun _ later, but first, weeks of inoculations and other medical procedures just to get her body ready for even the possibility of carrying a child. After her return from the dead, in the thick of the Dominion War, her weakened state had taken nearly a year to return to full health. Only then would Dr. Bashir even entertain the notion of her being pregnant. 

Jadzia understood the ins and outs of what was being done to her physiology, and she herself was dubious that it would work. But Julian insisted that the less intervention there was in conception, the better. If this didn’t work, there were other steps they could take. There was one more round of injections scheduled for tomorrow, and another test the day after, a stage in the treatment they had already reached four times, though Julian had said it might take multiple tries to get her chemistry just right. 

Besides, Worf wasn’t even on the station. He was gone far more than either of them would like, putting out fires between the Federation and the Klingons. He had accepted Martok’s offer of an Ambassadorship with the understanding that Jadzia would stay on DS9. It was three days to Qo’noS at warp 9, and no ship regularly went that fast. She visited him there, on occasion, but more often he took leaves of absence to come back to DS9. An unusual arrangement, but they were an unusual pair. 

She went back to her quarters, ate her evening meal, read reports, and went to bed, all in all, an uneventful day.

-

Three days later, Jadzia was awoken by a frantic knocking at her door. Not the doorchime, but actual knocking. She blearily called “Come in.” and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She had had just enough time to get out of the habit of coming awake all at once since the war had ended. A rather frantic looking Kira Nerys tumbled in through the door. 

“You’re still asleep!” she said, astonished.

“It’s… what time is it?” Jadzia said. 

“It’s 04:37, but didn’t you hear the comms for you?” Kira asked.

“No,” Jadzia said.

“It’s Worf,” Kira said. At Jadzia’s suddenly ashen face, she amended, “Oh, he’s fine, but… you’d better come quickly. And maybe put on some pants.”

Jadzia launched herself out of bed, and into the nearest set of clothes (her uniform pants and a rather hideously chartreuse top she kept because it was the most comfortable item of clothing she’d ever owned). Her feet went into her boots, and she was following Kira out into the corridor before her pillow fully reflated. 

Kira didn’t  _ quite _ run to Docking Bay 3, but the brisk trot was almost as efficient. She refused to divulge what was so urgent, but Jadzia’s stomach was working itself into knots. Her hair hang loose about her face, and she impatiently shoved it back behind her ears. 

The door to the docking bay rolled back just as they crossed the Promenade to it, and a harried Starfleet officer emerged carrying a very large bag. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, dipping his head toward Kira as he passed by. 

“Colonel,” a deep voice called from inside the airlock. 

“Ambassador,” Kira replied. “I’m not going to reprimand you for coming onto the station. I actually don’t think I can, but that’s beside the point.”

Jadzia peered around Kira’s shoulder at a dark hunched form in the low light of the station’s night cycle. It was clearly Worf, but he had something in his arms. 

“It is not you I am concerned about,” Worf said. “If Jadzia — “

“If I what, Worf?” Jadzia snapped irritably. 

Worf stood up and whirled around almost faster than Jadzia could track. What he held was still unclear, but his face was lit by a slant of light, and it was worried. 

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Kira said, and walked away, far too casually, down the Promenade. 

“Worf, come here,” Jadzia said. “Kira woke me up from a dead sleep and said ‘Come quick, it’s Worf!’ so I’d like to assure myself that you’re not going to break any time soon.”

Worf cautiously stepped out into the better lit space beyond the airlock, and his bundle moved with his motion. 

“Worf, what  _ is _ that?” Jadzia asked. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in a blanket that obscured most of its features. 

In lieu of an answer, Worf shifted the blanket so the being’s head was exposed, and Jadzia almost gasped in surprise. It was a child, a  _ Romulan _ child. 

“Worf,” Jadzia said very quietly. “Where did you get a Romulan child?”

“I… found them,” Worf said. “Their parents abandoned them, and no one was willing to take them in. Even the orphanage refused.”

“Why?” Jadzia asked. “Did their parents abandon them, that is.”

“They have a syndrome,” Worf said. “The Romulans refuse to do anything about it, and it is supposedly fatal to all Romulan children who have it. Something defective to be purged from the populace.”

“And you took this child from Romulans because they were going to let them die?” Jadzia asked, dubious. 

Worf sighed. “It was Baxter. He would not leave them behind, and smuggled them onto the ship without my knowledge.”

“And then he couldn’t take care of them beyond that, so you offered to bring them here for treatment?” Jadzia filled in the rest. 

“Exactly,” Worf said. “If anyone has the skill to fix their genetics, it will be Dr. Bashir.”

“You give him much credit,” Jadzia said. “Not undeservedly, but still. Don’t let it go to his head. Anyway. Why are you skulking about in the dark?”

“I kidnapped a child from Romulus and have no intention of returning them,” Worf said. “That’s technically a war crime.” 

Jadzia barked a surprised laugh. “You didn’t kidnap them, and it sounds like they won’t be missed anyway.”

Worf’s shoulders relaxed, just a bit. “You have a good point.”

Jadzia glanced at the child, who didn’t seem to be sick, and then at the darkened corridor of the Promenade. “What do you intend to do with them if Julian is able to cure them?” she asked. 

Worf shifted uneasily, a subtle gesture almost anyone else would have missed. “Returning them to Romulus is not an option,” he hedged.

“Worf,” Jadzia said, deciding to take the gentle path for once. “You want to keep them, yes?”

“I do,” Worf said. “But I cannot do it alone.” 

Jadzia looked down at the child’s sleeping face again, and warmth blossomed in her stomach. Not just  _ the _ child’s sleeping face, but  _ her _ child’s sleeping face. 

“What is our child’s name?” she asked. 

“Hatrel,” Worf said. “Their name is Hatrel.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have not seen any of Picard (show) nor do I intend to, for various reasons. I know it deals with the Romulans, but this exists in a separate space (clearly, given, you know, Jadzia's alive). Anything that seems weird, is.

“Dax!” A voice calling her name across the Promenade caught Jadzia’s attention, and she turned toward the source. 

A perplexed looking Kira proffered a data padd, and Jadzia took it. At the top was Hatrel’s name followed by a slew of information. As she looked it over, Jadzia’s eyebrows creased. 

“Is this what I think it is?” she asked, mostly rhetorically.

“It arrived this morning,” Kira said. “Your husband has friends in high places.”

“So it seems,” Jadzia hummed. 

-

“It’s genetic,” Julian said, gesturing to the viewscreen on his station. 

Jadzia was standing just behind and to the left of him. A pile of padds on the desktop contained detailed descriptions of various Romulan genetic disorders and their known causes and cures. 

“But…” Jadzia prompted.

“But it’s unlike anything I can find in the literature. I can treat Hatrel’s symptoms, but for now there is no cure. They will have a far better quality of life than they would have had on Romulus, but I will need longer, perhaps years, to try to develop a cure for them,” Julian said, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Jadzia. 

“That’s all I can ask,” she said. 

“It’s not, and we both know it,” Julian said. 

“Julian,” Jadzia said. “It’s not your fault this child has a genetic disorder. You’re doing everything you can to help them! They’re already far healthier than they were a week ago. Worf says they were knocking on death’s door when he found them.”

Julian shrugged. “It still seems like it should be  _ easy _ ,” he muttered. 

“And when was anything worth doing ever easy?” Jadzia asked.

“Have you met Garak?” Julian asked. “He’s easier than you might think.”

That startled a laugh out of Jadzia, and broke the tense mood. 

“Better nutrition than whatever they were getting is going to be the first step. What are you feeding them now?” Julian asked. 

Jadzia spent the next hour and a half going meticulously over the details of Hatrel’s care. Julian made a few suggestions, but otherwise could find no particular fault.

“I have to ask,” he said, as Jadzia prepared to leave. “Are you still intending to go through with the treatments we’ve been doing?” 

“Of course,” Jadzia said. “It will be at least a year before that will be a problem, right?” 

“Could be less,” Julian said, pulling a padd from the bottom of the stack. “It worked this time.”

-

Jadzia returned to her quarters in a thoughtful mood. The door opened to reveal chaos. 

She blinked a few times to take in the carnage before her. It seemed that all the pillows on the entire station were strewn about the room, sheets and blankets covered every elevated horizontal surface and some vertical ones. 

“Worf?” she called tentatively. 

His head popped up from the swath of cloth, hair in disarray, a huge smile on his face. “Jadzia!” he said. 

“What the hell happened?” she asked 

“Hatrel is an engineer,” Worf said proudly. “They wanted to build a pillow fort.”

“So you made a pillow  _ city _ ?” Jadzia asked. 

“They insisted,” Worf said.

“They’re three,” Jadzia said. 

“They were  _ very _ convincing,” Worf said. 

“Where are they now?” Jadzia asked. Worf gestured to the left, and Jadzia could just make out a cap of shiny black hair asleep on what was usually their couch. 

Jadzia carefully waded through the piles of pillows and blankets to Worf, and plopped down next to him in the softness. She pulled the padd that Kira had handed her that morning out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Before you read that, I should tell you what Julian had to say about Hatrel’s condition,” she said. 

Concern immediately came across his face, and she took his hand reassuringly. “He said he doesn’t have a cure  _ yet _ , but that there is no reason they can’t have a healthy, happy childhood. The syndrome shouldn’t affect them particularly until they reach puberty, and by that time, he might have a cure.”

“ _ Should _ ,  _ might _ ,” Worf said. “Platitudes.”

“Worf,” Jadzia said sharply. “He is doing everything he can.”

Worf growled. “I know. I do not have to like it.” 

“No you don’t. Now, look at that padd.”

Worf scanned the padd quickly, and sat up straighter. “These are adoption forms,” he said.

“They are,” Jadzia said. “And you see who signed it.” She gestured to the bottom, where a signature resided. 

“Remind me to send him a nice bottle of wine,” Worf said. 

“Did you ask him to do this?” Jadzia asked.

“No, and I have no idea  _ how _ he did this,” Worf said. “Hatrel was considered a non-entity by the Romulan government. Their parents erased any record of them as soon as they realized Hatrel had a birth defect.”

Jadzia had seven lifetimes of experience, but her gut still burned with anger that someone could abandon their  _ child _ like that. It took a moment to tamp it down. It didn’t matter now. Hatrel wasn’t with them anymore. They were here, and legally, there was nothing the Romulans could do even if they wanted to.

“So congratulations are in order,” Jadzia said. “You adopted a child. Surprise!”

-

“And if you’ll just sign  _ here _ and  _ here _ ,” the officer said, gesturing to two places on a padd. Jadzia signed quickly, and the officer held out a hand, a smile on her face. “Congratulations,” she said. Her dark eyes were warm with good humor. “You already love them a great deal.”

“I do,” Jadzia said. “Thank you, Cara.”

Caratodd Aya smiled. “This is the nice part of my job,” she said. “Too often I’m dealing with war orphans and abused children.” She packed the padd into her bag, and rose. The Betazoid was a social worker, one of too few in this part of the Federation. She had come to DS9 to finalize Hatrel’s adoption with Jadzia. In the initial adoption process, only Worf had been named as Hatrel’s parent, and Jadzia had needed to apply to adopt them independently. 

Jadzia rose with her, automatically shifting the sleeping Hatrel to one hip. “Good luck,” Cara said. “And pass that on to your husband?” 

“I will,” Jadzia said. Martok had recalled Worf to Qo’noS the day before on an emergency with his deepest apologies to Jadzia. 

-

Three weeks after Jadzia formally adopted Hatrel, Worf returned to the station to find his quarters swathed in darkness. He ordered the lights up, but they stubbornly refused. Just as he was about to call Engineering, the lights came on of their own accord, and he found himself surrounded. A thrill of surprise went up his spine and he felt himself tense for a fight before he registered their identities.

His nose did it before his eyes. Jadzia. Kira. Hatrel. Others, no enemies. 

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Kira said. “He looks ready to kill us all.”

Jadzia cheerfully ignored her, and pulled Worf into the center of what he realized was a surprise party. 

“What are we celebrating?” he asked. 

“Hatrel’s adoption,” Jadzia said. “It was finalized this morning.”

A smile split Worf’s face and he picked Jadzia up and spun her around, a wordless shout of joy coming from his mouth.

-

Later that night, after everyone left, Jadzia excused herself to take a shower, and Worf sat with his child on his lap. He thought briefly of Alexander. He had written to his son about Hatrel, but Alexander had not yet responded.

“I want cookie,” Hatrel said, holding out a hand.

“You are going to bed soon,” Worf said. “You may have a cookie tomorrow.”

“But I want one  _ now _ ,” Hatrel said. 

“Tomorrow,” Worf said. 

Hatrel pouted. It was adorable. 

Insistent they might be, but Hatrel was still only three, and their condition wore them out easily. Even as they tried to convince Worf to give them a cookie they yawned and their eyes fluttered. A few moments later, they fell asleep. 

-

Jadzia came out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel, about to ask Worf if he wanted to use it before bed, and stopped in the doorway to the bathroom.

Worf and Hatrel were both asleep on the couch, his hair undone and spilling over the back of the couch. They were lying on his chest, their fingers gripping his shirt tightly, shiny black hair in similar disarray to their father’s. Warmth filled her chest, and she pulled a blanket off the back of a chair, carefully arranging it around them. 

She had a question to ask Worf, but it could wait until tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know who Worf's friend who signed the adoption papers was. In my head it's Riker, but I have no idea if he has that kind of authority.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found with AND without pulp @fireflyslove


End file.
